Fate Fantasy: English Version
by Goldfield
Summary: The Holy Grail War reunites 7 masters fighting each other, seeking to obtain the artifact that can fulfill any wish. But they do not fight alone: they invoke heroic spirits of the past for their assistance. This is the story of Saladin, servant Saber.
1. Prologue

**FATE****/****FANTASY**

_Notes:_

_1 - This fic is a partnership between Goldfield and Otoshi, and it is the adaptation of a forum RPG. Give credit to both authors in the comments._

_2 - Because it is based on an RPG in progress, the chapters can delay a little._

_3 – Translated from Portuguese. Sorry for any mistakes._

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A flash ... And he feels his body materializing. He opens his eyes slowly, his body capturing the changing on the environment brought on by what seemed a stirred breeze. A young man stood before him, facing him. Noting the location, the just materialized man perceives sees he is in a room all black, with strange symbols painted on the floor, besides the candles and skulls. Something a bit disturbing. The boy was dressed entirely in black, almost camouflaged amidst the appearance of the room.

- Tell me, spirit of darkness! – the boy exclaims, eyes open wide. – What is your name? Was a response to my call?

Saladin looks at the strange place and its appearance. During his lifetime he had witnessed scenes of intense brutality and confrontation, and could not say that those representations pleased him – even though he considered himself a great fighter in battle, if the situation required it. Turning his eyes and then looking at the environment in which he was apparently invoked, as was pre-disposed by the rules of the Holy Grail War, the Arab warrior asked, thinking that the individual's appearance approached much of a heinous _Hassassin_:

- You are my master, dark craftsman?

The young man laughs, full of joy:

- Master, he called me MASTER!

Paying more attention on the site, Saladin sees inverted crosses and symbols that the ancient Crusaders used to designate Baphomet. Strange devices were also scattered around the room. The boy spoke again, almost crying:

- Tell me, demon servant, tell me your name!

Somewhat troubled by the apparent inexperience and cockiness of his master, Saladin feels even more troubled by the use, by his interlocutor, of the word "devil". Vile beings who had defied the prophets of the past, enemies of religion and faith. Evil creatures that brought pain and despair to the world since its creation. To be mentioned in such a way, the knight could not contain his irritation:

- My honor prevents me from immediately throw the blade of my sword on your neck, my master, because I could only do so after the proper explanations. Why did you call me devil? Who do you think I am? I'm Saladin. _Salah__ad-Din_. Champion of the faith in Allah, the Knight of Egypt. If you think I am a demon, then you can only be a creature associated with him and a representation of what I always fought against!

The young man, astonished, then takes a thick book and opens it, confused. After that he says:

- That's wrong ... There's something very strange happening here. Allah? In the name of Satan, how is this possible?

He closes the book and adds:

- Hehe, whatever, Saladin. Will you grant me my wish?

Saladin is getting impatient – a difficult thing to happen to him, and that boy before him had succeeded in triggering it. Taking a deep breath, ran a hand through the sheath that housed his scimitar, and seeking above all to remain calm, speak slowly so that his master would understand it well:

- I am neither a demon nor any entity that grants wishes like the gin of the legends of ancient Arabia. I am a servant, a heroic spirit invoked for you thanks to your skill as a magus and the power granted by the Holy Grail. If you invoked on me by mistake or for other purposes, then I beg you to give up your command spells and let me find another master, because I'm interested in someone who will fight in the Holy Grail War, and I have a wish that I desire to make to that divine piece. Now, if you insist on calling me "devil" and try making me fulfill your dark intentions, despite calling the name of the lord of all evil, I'll have to get rid of my current master by force!

The knight hoped that his words really had effect and that he would not need violence to subdue the boy who, though vile, above all seemed disoriented.

- Hold on then, bearded uncle – protested the young man. – What are you talking about? It's written that I would invoke a demon of the eighth circle, so that he would grant me a wish! And... Command spells? What are you saying?

Clearly he did not know what it was, but showed great anxiety about having his wish granted.

Saladin crossed his arms and tried to explain:

- Look at your right hand. On its back there are now some inscriptions. They represent your command spells, so that means you and me together will fight for the Holy Grail. That is, only if you want to. Like I said, if you are not interested or has something else in mind, let go of them so I can find another master. And I'm not evil or anything. If you still insist on calling me that as well, you will prove of my sword.

- I honestly think that proving someone's sword is kind of too gay – the boy replied with scorn, as he looked at his own hand. – Cool mark ... So what do you mean? Holy Grail? Do you mean _the_ Holy Grail?

Saladin tried to keep his patience. The situation improved slightly at least, and he was not called "demon" at that last phrase. Although he had no idea of what could mean the word "gay", it actually reminded him of Guy of Lusignan, the former Christian king of Jerusalem, and wondered if at that time in the future it had become an insult to refer to the king's name because of the defeat he suffered at the hands of Saladin himself. Ignoring that and keeping his arms crossed, the Arab told his difficult master:

- Yes, the Holy Grail, also known just as The Grail. The one I'm talking about, however, is not the container that collected the blood of the Christian prophet during his supposed martyrdom. It is an older item and much more powerful, and some say it represents the very "truth", the meaning of our pilgrimage in this world. The cup that grants any wish to the master and the servant who remain after the elimination of the other six...

- You mean I'm going to win the right to have one wish granted after killing other living beings? AWESOME! Hey, man... You can count on me on that thing. We will be champions.

Saladin could feel a considerable energy emanating from his master, powerful enough to give the servant skills worthy of a good war. Still with his arms crossed, the Arabic man sighs, still thinking that his master was very unstable and unpredictable. Somehow, it reminded him of Reinald of Chatillon. He hoped that impression would not be a source of problems. But he believed, above all, that people could improve. He witnessed that a lot in war. And perhaps the Holy Grail War was going to mature that boy…

- I hope this is not a very long war... – the knight muttered to himself.

- Nice, Saladin. My name is Henrik Schwartz. I hope we can smash some fools together.

The young man extended his hand with a friendly expression. A bell ringing could be heard in the distance, telling Christians to be six hours, i.e., the time of the celebration at church.

"Schwartz"? A name that referred to Europeans, especially those in the region of the Holy Roman Empire. Frederick Barbarossa. If Saladin's master possessed half the courage that the king had, to the point of dying during his pilgrimage to the Holy Land, then they would be good allies. Smiling, Saladin also extended his right hand, holding the boy's on a sincere compliment. Then he said:

- Well, Henrik. From now on I'll be your sword. _Allah__Akbar__!_

- COOL. Well... Where do we start?

From the window they could see a stately temple, with huge towers and colossal walls. Maybe there the bells tolled, as Saladin soon deduced. Somewhat confused and curious, he decided to ask his young master:

- Forgive the ignorance on my part, but where are we?

- Germany... Ah, you should not know... Follow me, I'll show you a map.

The boy leaves the room by a door which gave access to a corridor. Outside the look of the house looked completely different: cream-colored walls, simple and tidy furnishings: a lot different from that infernal piece of room Henrik had.

Saladin came with the boy, puzzled. That time seemed a lot ahead from the one the Arabic knight came from, so he needed several explanations. And knowing what was "Germany" seemed to be one. However, deducing that his master was a descendant of the Germans from the past due to his name, one would assume it was the nation where one day Frederick Barbarossa ruled. Continuing to follow Henrik, the warrior was looking forward to the fact of consulting a map.

The young man goes into a kind of office where there was a desk with a computer, dozens of books and a large closet. This room was much brighter than the other one. He moves to the cabinet, opening it and setting aside everything that was inside. Until, finally, breathing relieved by finding a large roll of paper. He took it from the closet and opened it on the desk, revealing a large map. Then points to a territory in Europe where it was written "Germany". Former Holy Roman Empire territory, as Saladin knew.

The Arab found himself glimpsed on the map. He was a big fan of cartographic art, and always enjoyed the territorial representations that some of his best experts had done to him in his previous life. However, the profusion of names, dots and lines on the paper left him confused. That appeared to be a tremendous mess. Somewhat annoyed, he asked the young man:

- Where in Germany are we, more precisely?

We are right here in Barmen! – shows the young man pointing to a state on the west coast of Germany. – City of the famous Friedrich Engels, who you probably do not know. But if you want to know, I got some books on the shelf about it.

It seemed to be, with no doubt, something interesting, but unfortunately there was no time. Raising his head and taking one of his hands again to his sheath, Saladin said:

- We have more important issues to be solved. Because you do not invoke me having in mind the Holy Grail War, we need you to visit the referee of this confrontation so that he provides you further explanation. In every war of this kind there is one, usually a member of the Catholic clergy, to my knowledge. Is there any isolated church in this city? A sacred place like of this kind? Those are generally neutral areas where those referees remain and that shelter defeated masters, so they don't get killed by the others.

- There is a church near here... – the boy replied. – But I doubt that Pietro, the friend of the people, know something about it.

- Pietro? – Saladin found that name quite strange. – Well, the masters should not expose their servants to others, nor people can witness fights between servants. So I need you to inquire about the referee resident in this city that, so when we be sure that he is who he seek, we can go out to see him. Besides, you live with someone else in this house?

- My parents. But they are traveling. Time enough to prepare this spell that I found at a book in an old library. My mother is a devout Catholic and hates that kind of thing. As for the referee... Maybe I can find something about it on the Internet.

A devout Catholic? Maybe this caused problems. It was amazing how Saladin always tried to avoid conflict, but they seemed to insist on persecuting him. He did not flinch; exposing once to the boy his opinion on the case:

- There will be problems if your parents see me, and I believe that I, as a servant, I will have trouble in dealing with those people. It would be better if you could move to some other address, at least until the war ends. And what is the Internet?

- Move away from here? Believe me, I'm trying for years. Internet... Well... Internet is a worldwide network of computers, which are machines that compute data from electricity and... Well, what really matters is that works and what I can find almost anything with it.

Looking at the boy now at a brighter room, Saladin could clearly see his appearance. Average height, very pale skin, straight black hair arranged in a transverse fringe on his forehead. He had something in his mouth like small metal objects across his lips – something that to the Arab man seemed painful and somewhat strange, although remembered him of ceremonial adornments or something like that. If he were better informed about that time, he knew that it were piercings. The boy also wore black outfits, consisting of a shirt with words written on it in white calligraphy and a strange sort of a blanket covering his back, which at that time was called "jacket". The legs were covered in pants of the some color tone and his feet wore strange shoes with similar aspect.

Henrik sat in his desk chair and pressed a button on that unsuspecting metal box. There were a few strange noises when lights went on and images appeared in a larger box in front of the young man. He seemed to look at it as it was trivial. Saladin, however, was surprised with the device. In his day it would be nothing but magic, witchcraft, but it seemed that the knowledge of men at that time destroyed the barriers that differed clearly spell from invention. In any case, even if he did not understand how Internet worked (though he was willing to interpret it as a modern version of "crystal balls"), it could be useful to discover the neutral area of the Grail War in that city. Thus, the Arab hero began to wait.

- Hey, look at this, an e-mail! – said the boy after some time. – Magic Association. Never heard of it.

When reading the message, sent by someone in name of that so-called Magic Association, the young magus could understand the scale of the Holy Grail War. In two days, he would have to be embarking to Munich, where he would meet with the first master, and there fight his first battle. He would be staying in a hotel, all costs covered by the same Association. The tickets were already purchased in his name. The sender of the message also wished good luck.

Saladin also read it and understood that they should leave as soon as possible. The young man had to find a way to circumvent the parental control and go to that city of Munich. The Arabic knight, in turn, stood ready for combat. He was willing to do anything for the Grail.

- I believe that this Association is the group that coordinates the war... – he said thoughtfully. – So they really were aware that you was going t invoke me. Well, let's depart as soon as possible. I see you're an inexperienced magus and the _prana_ to keep me in this world will not last forever...

- Inexperienced? HAH! Are you crazy? I invoke things out of nothing since I as a child. Do not get me wrong, but I provoke envy in many bearded boys from the cult.

The young man seemed confident in his words. Saladin could feel enough magical energy emanating from the boy.

- Hmm .. – Saladin stroked his beard with satisfaction. In fact, that young magus really looked very powerful. – Well. How do you want to go to Munich? Is there any magical way of journey at this time? And oh, being a heroic spirit, I can hide myself from others using my spiritual form. I think it would be prudent on our trip.

- Very wise. We'll go flying. In a machine. You'll love it. And due to certain characteristics of your ethnic type, we would have problems even you wore today's clothes. There is some tension here against the Arabs and the Middle East. And you fit well in this ethnic type, warrior of Egypt. But tell me... If there is a battle so big to be fought, and you tell me you're a knight, what are your skills?

Saladin listened to his master, and then just answered in a thoughtful way, part by part:

- Flying? This reminds me of the old legends about magic carpets, but as this world has developed many prodigies, I think it is natural to you... As for the hostility between your people and mine, which you define as "ethnic type", it is natural, after all there has never been peace among the religions of Allah and Jesus, and it is natural to think that they would continue to fight over the centuries. I'll be invisible to the eyes of others, as well.

Regarding the last issue, the servant took a deep breath before answering:

- I will defend you and fight for our interests with my trusty scimitar, my master. Beyond that, I count on my ability to dialogue with the enemy, avoiding unnecessary and often debilitating battles, and the blessings of Allah, who always assists those who honor Him. By the words of the Prophet, the victory will be ours!

- Um, OK – Henrik nodded, convinced. – We can win easily. The deities whom we serve are powerful. But then... What will we while not flying? Ah, my parents come back tomorrow.

Saladin sighed and answered:

- If they are absent, then it is the perfect time for us to begin the journey. So there will be no need to confront their opinions directly. Prepare your things, leave a cordial message to them, and go!

- Our trip is scheduled for two days from now. We can not leave yet, if we're going to respect the decision of that Association! – argued the boy.

The Arab man scratched his beard. The decision of the Association was prejudicing the dynamics of the war. But they would have to bear with it. Thoughtful, he said:

- I will stay in my invisible form, but your parents will be suspicious if they caught you talking to "yourself". Besides, do you think about an excuse to give them about our trip?

- Hmm… I can say it's a trip with friends from college. They always fall on that! – the young man laughs.

- Hmm... - Saladin gave a subtle smile. – Well, I think it could work. Now tell me what your knowledge of magic is. What can you do?

The knight had hoped that his master was strong as his _prana_ led to believe.

- INVOKE – the boy seemed very anxious. – You can ask. Anything. Come on, speak!

- Hmm .. – muttering again, Saladin appeared to have a bit of fear and mistrust. – Water. Ice water.

The boy closes his eyes. The environment around him suddenly gets dark, the magical energy of the atmosphere starting to concentrate in the figure of Henrik. It seemed that all the light was being stolen by him. He opens his mouth and a deeper voice hoarse and pronounces:

- _Im__Namen__die__Sie__Baal__buchstabieren__Form__, die __meinen__Verstand__imprägniert__. __Dass__mein__Wille__gebildet__wird__._ (In the name of Baal, I conjure the form that pervades my mind. That my will be done).

The light returns to its rightful place. Suddenly two drops of blood fall from the boy's eyes, they soon reaching the floor and turning into two glasses with water. He opens his eyes, picks up one of the containers and offers it to Saladin.

The Arab watched all very stunned. Spell words in German language, that was new to him. They had an impressive tone, even a little aggressive. However, it was certain that the boy's _prana _was really high. The effect around generated by the spell casting made that clear. Smiling, Saladin took the cup of water and drank the liquid with low temperature that was so hard to get in the sands of desert. But something had left him curious about the abilities of his master... "Baal". He really uttered that name? Anyway, it was necessary to clear his doubts:

- Do you by chance cried for the old Phoenician god? Baal? I ask because you previously called for Satan ... I do not give credit to any of these deities from the infidels, and I believe that your power may have other origins, but... Do you follow any of them in particular?

- Christianity has demonized all the ancient gods – Henrik protested vehemently. – Satan himself has characteristics of ancient gods. We believe that Christianity is the end of magic, the opposite is the culmination of it. That's how our magic works.

The boy's voice was still hoarse and rough. His expression had suddenly changed ...

Saladin did not agree completely with those words, but had to admit that they made sense. Moreover, his faith never mentioned the Grail and the artifact had clearly demonstrated its power already. He thought it would be better to don't question the boy's magical abilities anymore, at least for now. He was already satisfied with what he saw:

- I understand.

And suddenly, a chill spread through the Arabian knight's body when he heard:

- This body will have much to offer us in the future...

The young magus continued to talk in that strange voice, which now had more than one pitch, as in unison; he looked at himself with a smile that could not be natural to his face.

- You know, we're happy to have someone to talk to. Usually we're lonely when we are here. We're thirst to be in the thoughts and bodies of mortals again.

Another timbre joined the chorus of voices, that were now laughing in a very loud and confusing way.

The servant, who previously only thought that the changed tone of voice of the boy was strange (and believed to be due to the magic he used), was now really worried. Some kind of entity seemed to have got hold of the boy. He had heard many stories when he was a child. Evil spirits, treacherous and chaotic. Taking a deep breath, he saw that the situation required extreme tact, then trying to communicate with whatever it was:

- Who do I speak with?

- Who do you want to talk, spirit commanded by us? – replied the sinister chorus.

- With the entities that took the body of this young man! – Saladin countered firmly.

- We are many, all of us. We are nightmares, dreams, desires and disappointments. We hope too far. We have a desire that the Grail can accomplish. You will assist us in this regard. Our covenant is still standing and firm.

The Arabian knight then found himself in a difficult situation. The presence there was clearly malignant and distorted. An affront to Allah. Worse, manifested itself in the boy when he used magic, taking possession of his body cowardly. Even that going against his honor, there was not much that Saladin would do at the moment. Those gins would simply use their command spells against him if he tried to react. All he could do, then, would comply... But not forever. During that war, he would act against those spirits... He would save the soul of his master!

- I understand.

- Glad you understood. May Allah be praised.

The last sentence was followed by a laugh of a grotesquely large chorus of voices, which reduced its power in a _rallentando_ until it became a hiss. The boy's body was now bound to the ground unconscious.

Saladin moved as soon as that the boy fainted, advancing towards him and picking up his body with his hands before he met the floorboards. With the boy in his arms, he took a moment gazing at his sweaty expression before murmuring:

- _Aasef..._

Then he looked around, his eyes stopping on the other glass of water on the floor. Taking one of his hands to his clothes, Saladin took a small piece of cloth that he carried with him, immerged it in the cold water and passed it lightly on the forehead of his master, hoping he got up.

The boy was breathing faintly, but when he heard the apology from his servant, smiled in a sinister way. His _prana_ seemed to have increased and become heavier.

- Thanks, Saladin.

His voice was sweet, but weak and tuneless. He had opened his eyes wide, demonstrating distress and an aggressive affliction.

- This never happened before – Henrik said. – Even more for something so trivial.

The voice remained the same as if were natural.

Worried, although relieved to see that the boy had recovered his consciousness – now being himself – Saladin warned:

- Be very careful when casting spells from now on. Those entities can not overpower you so easily. That will prejudice our performance in the war, and, above all, it can affect you irreversibly.

Adding courage to his speech, the knight added, wanting to understand what happened to the boy:

- Tell me... How you began to use magic? Who taught you? How?

- No one taught me. Things were just happening naturally so when I realized, I did magic. I always had ease and interest. And it was almost natural to join my cult. Why the interest?

- Hmm...

Despite not speaking aloud, the boy's sudden progress in magic seemed to be directly connected to the strange evil spirits that had dominated him earlier. The servant would keep that opinion to himself for now. He would act only in the right moment.

- Just curious... – the Arabic said. – Well, what to do while your parents do not come?

- Maybe showing you the city or training combat situations, so we be familiar to each other when it is time to battle.

Saladin liked the idea:

- I believe we can do both. But we should not spend to much time: we both need to rest too, to replenish our energies. Do you have any suggestion of places to visit first?

The Arabic warrior really had no preference. Everything was new to him.

- We can train in a place I like to go to practice magic and relax. I appreciate it greatly because of its discretion and for being away from prying eyes.

- If it is discreet and you're accustomed to it, looks good to me. Let's go! – the knight accepted with a smile.

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**Name****:** Saladin (Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub)

**Class****:** Saber

**Master****:** Henrik Schwartz.

**Appearance****:** With a characteristic appearance of a man of the Near East, Saladin has dark skin, curly and black hair and beards, and thick eyebrows. Strong body, but not much. Average height. It is rarely seen without his turban and his suit of armor made of chain mail covering a robe made of fine and rare soft cloth from the East. Brings along with him, also, his two main weapons: a deadly and sharp scimitar with a jeweled handle and an ornate hidden along one of his legs.

**History:** Born in Tikrit, present-day Iraq, in 1138 AD.

In 1175 he became vizier of Egypt, after having led a courageous campaign to unify the region and restore it to the predominance of Sunni Islam. In the following years also unified and conquered Syria and Mesopotamia.

During this period, along the Mediterranean coast, in the region of Palestine, stood the fragile Christian kingdoms founded by the European combatants at the end of the First Crusade. He refused to attack such territories before consolidating his rule over Syria. During this venture, Saladin was attacked by the shadowy group of assassins from Ismaili, the Hashshashin, which failed to take out his life.

While maintaining peace with the crusader states, Saladin couldn't avoid a few skirmishes with their knights, almost always coming out victorious of them. In 1177, however, at the Battle of Montgisard, was beaten by Christians, forced to sign a treaty with them which lasted until 1179.

Then began a period of successive victories of Saladin, often retaliating Christian attacks on trade routes and Islamic holy places led by the relentless French knight Reinald of Chatillon. The situation culminated in the Battle of Hattin in July 1187, when Saladin beat the crusader armies, condemning the existence of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and Chatillon being captured and executed.

In October of that year, troops of Saladin besieged Jerusalem. Through negotiations with Balian of Ibelin, amnesty for most of the city population was guaranteed and the people was escorted safely to the shore, the Holy City being taken over without bloodshed.

The fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem served as a trigger to the Third Crusade. More European kings headed for Palestine with the objective to free the holy sites of Christianity, including the English king Richard the Lionhearted. Acre was taken, the Christian armies fighting major battles with Saladin's. He continued to show himself, however, to be a master strategist and a spotless knight. He respected their rivals, especially King Richard, even sending him a doctor on one occasion and two horses on other, when the Englishman lost his. Amid the conflict in that land, Saladin almost always showed himself more sensible and noble then the enemy commanders.

In 1192, Saladin and Richard came to an agreement about Jerusalem: the city remained in the hands of Muslims, but would be open to Christian pilgrimages. Shortly after Saladin died in Damascus, 1193. There were not sufficient funds for his funeral: he had donated everything to charity.

Although he lived in a setting of holy war and battles often of great savagery, Saladin was, by the end of his life, a most honorable knight.

**Skills****:**

NOBLE PHANTASMS:

Concept: "Knight of Egypt" - No servant can attack him without talking, while the magical energy of Saladin can hold the ability activated.  
**RANK A**

Physical: "Scourge of Infidels" - His scimitar gives him greater strength and ability when Saladin faces Christian servants.  
**RANK**** C**

COMMONSKILLS:

Magic Resistance: Can not cancel spells, but their effects have minor consequences on the servant.  
**RANK**** E**

Charisma: Skilled in commanding armies and inspire courage.  
**RANK****B****  
**  
Militarytactics: A great military strategist.  
**RANK A**

ProtectionofAllah: Allah protects Saladin when he claims his name, especially seconds before becoming unconscious, taking over his body and using supreme skills.  
**RANK A**

Salah: When Saladin pray to Allah at least twenty-five minutes per day on five different occasions, he receives bonuses in combat and a better clarity of thoughts.  
**RANK**** C**

**

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**

_**To be continued…**_


	2. Chapter I: Inquisition

**Chapter**** I**

_"__Inquisition"_

Henrik put some hardcover books into a backpack – along with some cereal bars – grabbed his cell phone and the house key. Then opened the front door and left, getting outside to wait for Saladin.

After one last look inside the house, and again recalling the terrible contact with the spirits that possessed Henrik before, Saladin also gone. He descended the few steps in front of the entrance door and walked to where the boy was, at the same time looking at the street. There was something else that was new to him there, but in an uncomfortable way. The knight, embracing his own hest, soon realized he would have problems until getting used to: cold. A biting wind, icy, that made him shiver to the spine. Very different from the deserts of Palestine...

- Saladin, please hide your presence from prying eyes! – the boy said suddenly. – Do not want any attention.

Some people had their necks already stretched, casting puzzled looks on the figure of the Arabic man, but nothing too serious yet.

- Oh, sorry for the lapse, I'm still not used to, now I will always do this... – and, without more talk, the servant became invisible to everyone except Henrik.

The boy, angry, whispered angrily:

- OK. Do it. But next time, do so before leaving home. We were lucky that no one noticed... Come on.

He then began to walk.

Saladin was a little uncomfortable with the anger of the boy, but he remained silent, following him. As they walked, the Arab came to admire the architecture of the German city. The shape and structure of the houses and stores were, without doubt, very different from those of the ancient cities of the East. Besides the buildings, everything else seemed to intrigue him: objects, gadgets, clothes, people... Mostly people.

They were walking quiet trough the city, when an unexpected call interrupted the walk:

- HENRIK! EVIL JUSTIN BIEBER!

- WALTER, SON OF A BITCH! – that was the exasperated response from Saladin's master, looking back as he spoke those words.

The unknown boy author of the exclamation accelerated and was much bigger than Henrik. The strange did not have a friendly expression on his face. The servant, in turn, put his right hand on the sheath, ready to draw his scimitar if sensed danger to the life of his master...

The stranger was at full speed. By the time they would collide, Henrik hugged him. They laughed. A bit relieving...

- So how was the ritual? – the newcomer asked the master.

- More complicated than I expected, but in one way or another, it worked.

- Let's go to Sten's house, have a few drinks...

- Now I can't. I'm busy.

- Hey, making yourself difficult?

The said Walter, as Saladin assumed Henrik's friend as called, had tall body, endowed with muscles, very light skin and bald head. He wore simple clothes, but reminiscent in tone and composition of the other boy. A figure that could not avoid generating suspicion on the servant...

At the same time, the Arab knight asked himself about the referred "Justin Bieber" being some famous magus or something like it...

It was when Saladin realized... Walter's gaze was threatening to Henrik. This one, knowing his friend, knew that he usually came before the bad news. He could not be more right about that.

- Ah... – murmured the bald boy, hands in his pockets. – Okay, Henrik. I'm going with you.

Saladin did not appreciate at all the unknown young man, nor his decision to follow Henrik. It did not seem good, especially due to the servant willing to stay hidden. As they walked, the Arab asked the young wizard:

- Who is he? Are you sure this is a good idea?

- Walter, remember when we were children and we used to go to those woods? – ignoring the speech of his invisible servant, Henrik asked his friend. – Remember that I was scared at times?

- You always scares me, man. Why does your voice sound different?

- That ritual's fault.

- No kidding! You'll have to tell me more.

- You will know everything when we get into the woods.

They were walking relaxed. Henrik expected to answer Walter's questions, something very sinister becoming more and more present on his face...

Saladin, in turn, realized that he could not communicate with his master for some time; although he disapproved, and a lot, what happened. Quiet, continued to follow them. He hoped that the forest was not hiding anything nasty for them...

They reached the place without word. The atmosphere was heavy. The two boys were puzzled for some reason. Walter said all along the way that Henrik was different. The questioned boy remained impassive. The forest was great, and, oddly enough, empty. The joy was almost tactile on Walter's face. Henrik kept his serious tone. He walked into the place, which gradually complicated their ways and caused a few stumbles on them, as it was already dark.

At a certain moment they stopped, and the master, without warning, simply said:

- Reveal yourself, servant. Show your figure, my loyal Saber.

Saladin shook. What that boy could be thinking? All the discretion, the precautions... Now gone. And he could not disobey the order. The knight appeared in all his magnificence before the other guy, his hand still cautious over the sheath with the scimitar.

- Here I am...

Walter was stunned. That was different from all other invocations. _Prana_ emanated in a very intense way. It was too alive. And it seemed also intelligent.

- W-W-What is this, man? – he stammered, amazed.

- You wanted to come here – Henrik replied, his tone sounding increasingly macabre. – Now it would be good if you keep quiet, he and I need to integrate as servant and master.

- A-a-alright. You need to teach me how to do this.

- If you do not shut up, you better leave.

- If I leave, you run the risk of being discovered here.

- And how many sane people would trust a drug addict and alcoholic _skinhead_?

Silence. Well... Henrik had a strong argument.

Even more troubled by the situation, Saladin decided to ask:

- Master, why did you revealed me to that person?

- Simple, right? It was necessary to shut him up. In fact, he helped me so far in many things. I can not be totally ungrateful and can not waste time as well. But let us prepare.

Henrik opened the backpack and grabbed one of the books, more specifically one with old cover and yellowing pages. Opening it on a particular page, closed his eyes as the environment became more and more gloomy...

Not quite understanding it, Saladin wondered if they would really attack the other boy. They would kill him that way, in cold blood? And was Henrik again preparing a spell that would cause those evil spirits to return to his body? In any case, the warrior still did not understand. And he feared everything.

- Master, I still do not understand – he protested. – What does this mean?

- It means that we will train, and Walter will watch. Now, please do not disturb my concentration.

The site and its surroundings became more and more dark. The waning moon in the sky became red, a deathly silence gripped the surroundings. In the background, tortured screams could be heard. The grass became gray. The whole atmosphere assumed a tone too heavy and clumsy, as if the evil contained in the bowels of the earth came to the surface and contaminate everything... The expression of dread on Walter was evident.

At least Henrik did not want to end his friend's life. Well, "he", himself, did not... But perhaps the spirits that appeared again on their way to control him yes. Stunned, Saladin maintained a defensive posture, a steady hand on the sheath and eyes shifting between his dark master, the astonished _skinhead_ and the terrifying scenario that formed around them...

May Allah be with them.

The ground began to open, and thus created craters that not exuded a pleasant scent. It was possible to hear desperate cries, dying, coming from inside the holes. After some time, Saladin found himself close to the borders of those burned and deformed hands, some with exposed bones, trying to grab the land around in an apparent attempt to climb up.

That does not in any way please Saladin. It seemed that the depths of hell were really getting in connection with the Earth, opening a portal so their fearsome inhabitants could cross it. No longer able to contain himself, the knight drew his scimitar from his sheath, brandishing it in defense position and the jewel-encrusted handle shining like fire under the light generated by the craters. Then he asked, crying as he looked at his master:

- In the name of Allah, what is this?

The voice of his master was no longer the same. He cried in a horrifying tone:

- IN THE NAME OF SAMAEL AND LILITH, I CALL UPON YOU, SONS OF ADDICTION!

There were ashes, smelling of sulfur. Beings then appeared and burned with a threatening look from inside the cracks. Some had claws, other sharp teeth. They did not seem very happy. And laughed. Everyone laughed. A nervous laugh. Worthy of the most hideous beasts of the abyss.

- Okay, Saladin – the voice of Henrik went again in chorus. – They will be your dinner. They will serve to train us and increase your energy. Moreover, we need to get used to the realities of this plan, too.

No, Saladin could not accept that. Consume souls to increase his power, specially souls from humans lost in eternal damnation, was something that he could not handle. It went completely against his beliefs. Against its code of knighthood. Against everything he stood for. War, full of bloody battles, had taught him to respect other people's lives above everything else. And so he decided, with a firm and determined voice:

- I refuse, master. I can not do that.

- You want them to beg, Saber? – the possessed Henrik laughed. - They prefer to be part of you, that is pure, than to suffer they way they suffer. You will deny them that gift? Will deny them forgiveness?

The creatures seemed to consent, in their creeping numbness, in consideration to the master's words. And that was the thing that made the servant more horrified.

The Arab still could not conceive that. It was too strange, too ugly. But in fact, those souls, even if invoked by a dreadful spell, still had a glimpse of pureness and fair appeal. Saladin, however, found far more prudent to confirm:

- Show me proof of your purity, condemned to eternal damnation!

The creatures seemed to be intrigued. The master then shook his head in a negative tone:

- Don't you understand? Why do the evil that inhabits the depths would bother to hurt anyone that is from the same strain of it? Don't you see the sores and wounds on the bodies of these poor creatures? Do not see how they were tortured? Do not see that them, despite being threatened with punishment far worse than that, came here to meet our call? Came to receive forgiveness? Came to assist us winning this war?

"Victory in this war". That was the key word. After the previous dominance of Henrik by those evil spirits, and now in face of such awkward prodigy, Saladin did not yet know well who he was serving. He saw the wounds, he saw the suffering of those beings, but it was of no use to serve the evil purpose of those who enslaved them. Lilith, the demon. Samael, vile angel. Both representatives of the darkest evil hordes of hell. Saladin could not give in before being sure. He would never serve something so vile, if it was really that way!

- Grant victory to whom? – asked the knight in a severe tone. – To my master, the boy Henrik, or that collusion of evil entities that manifest their wishes through his body?

- Is that really matters, Saber, if your wish will also be granted? That really matters? It is very unlikely that you'll return to this reality after the war. It's so important to you to know more about this insignificance then fulfilling your wish? Is it so important to know who will have the prize?

- Yes, it is!

Saying that, Saladin pointed his sword to his master in a hostile and challenging attitude. Without even blinking, convinced of what he was doing, he exclaimed:

- I will not serve any demon of the abyss that want to corrupt the Grail and the body of a poor child! My wish is far less important than my honor and the principles I believe! If this continues, I will be obliged to make use of my sword against such villainy!

A laugh came from the teenager's body in several different tones. He then said:

- Why have you turned into this perverted aberration from the will of your god? Something as profane as a desecration of a natural law? You should have been dead for centuries, the hero of Egypt and scourge of his own god. You would embarrass your people if they knew about this disgrace. What do you know about the nature of the Grail? Nothing, right? You still have made a pact with him. You are the scum of your own values.

Words from the entities of the depths could shake a common listener. But not Saladin. That inhuman scum could try to insult him, take away his courage, but was only increasing his conviction. The mention on the Grail could very well be a bluff, but Saladin preferred to discover the truth alone, not through that spirits. On that moment he had only one certainty: he had to immobilize the possessed Henrik, putting he to sleep somehow and banishing those beings of darkness back to their dimension of origin. Trusting in Allah and his kind blessings, he threw himself against the boy with his scimitar, raising a cry from his throat:

- I expel you out of here, foul demons!

This was followed by a sudden gust of wind, an abysmal and devilish sound, and the dismissal of the chorus:

- See you later, Saladin.

The environment was back to normal suddenly and quickly. Henrik hit the ground. Walter was no longer present – the moment he escaped being completely ignored. But one thing had remained...

Deformed beings, gray, stunted, with deformed skulls and possessing remnants of what they had once been: human faces capable of expressing feelings... Raised their arms in a supplicant way, trying to grab some kind of tangible hope...

The crater and the creatures were still there.

Tired, weapon still in his hand and ready to be used, Saladin looked at those morbid beings. Shapeless, dark, thirsty. Before rescuing Henrik, saw that it was of utmost urgency to do something for those poor souls. He threw himself down, falling on his stomach. And in a loud and supplicant voice, pleaded:

- Oh Allah, guide these poor spirits away from eternal punishment. They have suffered enough, and now crave redemption. Show them the light, faith, and Heaven!

A sudden light broke trough the sky, as if the sun shone stronger for a few seconds. The creatures were broken one by one, turning into ashes, their reduced mouths showing something like smiles before no longer existing. Henrik seemed unconscious. Saladin felt as if his stamina and willpower were increasing as those tortured beings were falling apart...

Now more calm and at peace, the knight got up from the ground slowly, watching as the last bodies present there vanished. At least they had found eternal rest. It would still have to be checked what had happened with Henrik's friend, but that could wait till later. Saladin ran to his master and took him on his arms, then trying to wake him up with mild jolts:

- Henrik! Henrik!

Inert. The servant could feel a large amount of _prana_ emanating from him, much larger than other times and much more dense. It was possible to hear, also, screams at distance.

Stunned, Saladin looked in the direction of the cries... And he faced an unusual scene – to tell the minimum.

As if emerged from nothing, perhaps invoked just as he was, six people were standing nearby on the lawn. Five of them were men wearing black cloak and hood, as if belonging to some kind of sect, making up only one exception: a guy having his body and features hidden by a red robe. With grim and angry faces, eyes wide open and lips retracted, they formed a circle around a sixth character: a woman wearing a torn white tunic, brown hair caught in a ponytail behind her head... And an incredible suffering expression on her face. The others were torturing her… Pulling chains linked to different parts of her body, including some very sensitive areas such as breasts and fingers, each one of the executioners pulling to one side, as with the intention of ripping her body apart.

The situation worsened immediately after seeing to improve. Henrik looked well, but unconscious. Maybe he would wake up soon – without needing more intense treatment. But the girl in the middle of the cloaked circle did. Gazing into the vile hooded figures, Saladin wondered which could be the motive of such cruelty and savagery. Pure sadism? Maybe. With his chest firm, a serious expression on his face, the Arabic warrior began to walk toward the aggressors, scimitar on his right hand. At a shorter distance, he shouted:

- Why all this evil?

- Hey, trouble, guys! Run, run! – exclaimed one of the hooded ones, nervous.

Everyone began to run, each one at a different direction, including the tortured girl. And all of them soon disappeared from the sight of the servant. He, without understanding anything, remained a moment motionless, on guard, awaiting the possible return of some of those mysterious characters. Seeing that they had actually moved away, he decided to think about that later and then turned his attention back to Henrik, checking if he had already waked up...

Tears of blood poured over the face of the boy now... As if he were incredibly distressed, crying bitterly, but was still unconscious. It could be heard, at the same time, the approaching footsteps of people coming from the forest entrance.

Saladin quickly hid himself in his spiritual form, bending down beside the boy. Using his keen hearing, found out that the approaching strangers were still far away. He had to take his master away. Putting Henrik on his arms, the Knight of Egypt ran deeply into a well wooded area at south of the park. If he could not find an alternative exit, at least he could hide there with the boy now, while trying to make him regain consciousness – before the strangers left…

The servant came to a point where there weren't forest trails. It was possible to hear the sounds of some birds, small animals and insects. More calm, Saladin slowly put the body of Henrik on the grass, looking at his face... And seeing crimson eyes. Blood-stained countenance. Dry mouth and very pale skin. The servant shook the boy and called him again, hoping to wake him up:

- Henrik, Henrik!

The boy moved his eyes. He appeared to be too weak to speak. The Arab knight whispered:

- Do not speak, my master. Spare your forces.

Praying to Allah, Saladin sought divine protection and clarity of thought to try to think about the best way around that situation. Animals such as squirrels and birds began to gather at a certain distance around the two. They seemed curious about those unexpected elements so deep in the woods. The servant heard footsteps louder. People were getting close.

- _Hada__shay'un__Jameel__!_ – Saladin murmured in an ironic tone.

And with a frown, he took Henrik on his arms again, leading him to the opposite direction to the approaching footsteps...

Then he also heard strong footsteps on the other side. They were surrounded.

- Damn it...

Putting himself in deep prayer to Allah, sweating, Saladin begged to his god for a glimpse of what could be done in such a situation...

And then, almost in a flash, he could see Walter, the _skinhead,_ with a baseball bat on his hand, followed by a group of other teens wearing _spikes_ and carrying chains or other bats. All that apparatus was unknown to the servant, but it was very threatening by the mere appearance.

The group apparently did not notice Saladin nor Henrik. The servant stood on guard, just watching...

The attackers passed, without noticing any one of the two. It was possible to see the sky clearing with the first sunbeams of the morning. Saladin did not quite understand what had happened. They would not have seen him because he was on his spiritual form, but what about Henrik? And what would have happened to Walter for him to disappear and then reappearing again, with minions?

The knight decided to try to understand all this later. By the moment, he only tried to take Henrik again on his arms... And saw that he was finally awake. Smiling maniacally. He had deep marks on his eyes. Marks that emanated a dense energy.

- Let's go, my saber, the day already begun – he spoke as if nothing had happened.

The knight became increasingly confused:

- But my master, what happened? Can you explain?

Henrik could barely stand up, but continued to speak:

- All in good time, honorable Saber. Take me home, piously.

Saladin tried to raise the boy on hiss arms again, asking whether he could or could not do it... And, at this time, could easily do so. Relieved, the Arabic began to walk with care and attention with the master on his arms, towards the exit he still remembered. It was soon seen. No living soul was found on the edge of the woods. Saladin deduced that the time was around six o'clock in the morning. A new day was really beginning.

The Arab man remembered that he needed to turn toward the sacred Mecca to beg for the blessings of his lord on one more day, mainly thanking him for all the aid already provided, but first had to bring his master to his house. Taking advantage of not being seen by anyone carrying Henrik, Saladin followed to the park gate, heading toward the street. He thought about entering his spiritual form, and soon had an idea that could contribute to their discretion: putting his master standing up, backed him on his shoulders and went invisible, trying to shove him and sustain him quietly as he walked. So people on the streets would not be surprised nor with an Arab man wearing traditional battle clothes, nor with the body of a boy being carried by a mysterious entity that could not be seen. It was likely they would look to the unfortunate boy and assume that, having too much wine, he was now stumbling back to his home...

Saladin and Henrik arrived home after some time. The door was locked, and the young man was sleeping again. The servant looked around carefully, looking for an open window... Turning around the residence, the servant soon found the back window that, as it seemed, was never kept closed.

Cautious, trying not to make noise and still carrying Henrik standing, as the boy walked alone, Saladin took him to the said opening, leaned over the railing, and put him sitting carefully on the inside, only entering after that. By doing so, Saladin met something unexpected. He heard a female voice and male one in the room near the bedroom. Probably were the parents of his master.

- Damn... – the servant murmured. – Just as I suspected...

Careful and trying to make as much silence as possible, Saladin, keeping his spiritual form, carefully laid Henrik on the bed and sat next to a corner of the room – quiet, waiting.

The boy's parents, when hearing the noise at their son's bedroom, soon entered it. They halted, however, in front of the closed door. There was a brief discussion about what they should do with him, their muffled voices a little high. The woman then asked her husband to go rest of the upcoming trip. As soon he left, Saladin could hear the woman say, soon after entering the room:

- Reveal yourself, spirit.

Saladin's eyes widened. He was not expecting that, even though he previously suspected a bit before. After all, magi usually descended from long heredities and it would be at least strange if there weren't any other spell caster in Henrik's family. Quiet and serene, the knight changed his form, revealing his presence:

- Here I am.

- My name is Silk Schwartz, mother of Henrik Schwartz and exorcist of the Catholic Church – the woman with short black hair and imposing Germanic presence showed no ceremonies. – I am also a supervisor of the First World Holy Grail War, designated to this position by the Magic Association. I'll follow you to Munich tomorrow. Henrik should not suspect anything, much less my husband.

The woman then showed a crucifix she was hiding on her garments until then. There was no doubt: she belonged to the clergy and would be an arbiter on the conflict between magi.

That was at least unexpected. In front of the Christian symbol, Saladin felt the in woman the same determination that he previously saw on the Crusader Monarchs who he fought against in the past. Then Henrik's mother was a supervisor of the masters at war and also a church leader. Saladin thought that would be rather complicated to answer her request about her remaining "incognito", especially for Henrik. The possibility of Saladin being defeated and the young man then losing his servant existed; and if that happened, he would eventually discover that his mother was the arbiter of that conflagration. It was a rule that he would go to her to not to be killed by the other masters – and Silk, certainly, besides fulfilling her role as a supervisor, would act with greater determination to protect the boy, due to her maternal instinct.

- It seems to me that you've been hiding many things from your child ... – the knight began to speak, after looking again to Henrik and make sure he slept. – I don't know if it was your intention or not to keep him away from all this, madam, but he is now involved in this war and I will be his sword towards the Chalice. I'll keep your presence in our wake and your real function on this conflict hidden from the boy if you wish, but there are several questions that I demand to redress. First, I wonder about the term "Great War", which you used to refer to this dispute. Being a heroic spirit invoked by a magus, I can not remember my possible participation in those previous wars, but I wonder if this one differs somehow from the other ones. And, as you mentioned being an exorcist... I imagine that maybe should be familiar to you that your child is being molested by creatures of darkness, impure demons of the underworld that dominate him whenever he tries to use magic. Are you aware of this situation? Did or intend to do something to rid him of this painful condition?

The woman took a deep breath and answered:

- There is only one thing I will clarify to you: this war is one of global proportions. There are now masters of the whole world struggling to get the Grail. And this battle is not just between seven servants, nor to grant only a single wish. About my son, I believe that this only concerns me.

Things were taking an increasingly unpredictable way. Gazing deeply into the woman's eyes, Saladin felt hardness in her character that was only partially demonstrated on her words. She seemed hard as a rock, and in front of that the Arab knight wondered if the demons that were possessing Henrik had any relation to her. Did that woman really had something to do with the boy's misfortune? Could she somehow be... the cause?

- I understand – the servant nodded. – If this war is so big, so I'll keep my loyal scimitar and my senses always alert and ready to protect my master and defeat his enemies. I'm waiting for our departure to Munich, but at least I would like to know if that sleep is beneficial to my master, and if there is any indication of when he will awake...

- If you let me get near him, I can make him get back to normal and the natural way to relax, not fighting himself... – the boy's mother said with some weariness.

- Right... – the Arabic warrior sighed, moving away from the bed and watching.

Silk knelt in front of the bed and touched the forehead of her son. Henrik changed his facial expression instantly, starting to rest calm. Rising up, the exorcist turned to the servant and said:

- Well, we'll leave tomorrow. He'll sleep all day today.

- Okay... – Saladin muttered somewhat annoyed, but holding back because of the circumstances.

He would not give up getting the answers he wanted.

- I have to go to meet my husband – the woman said, moving towards the door. – I wish you luck, Saber.

- Thank you, ma'am. _Allah Akbar!_

She left, leaving Saladin and his master alone.


End file.
